


Joan Bennett: 5 Stages of Grief

by CharlotteW_1



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Accepting Joan, Angry Joan, Bargaining Joan, Charlie is a dick, Divorce, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Five Stages of Grief, Gaslighting, Grief/Mourning, Joan in Denial, Post-Divorce, Sad Joan, Viva la Joan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteW_1/pseuds/CharlotteW_1
Summary: Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.Joan might have been tough to work with, but she would always have a soft spot for her husband, regardless of how badly he seemed to treat her. That's why, when they finally divorced, Joan felt every single thing.Rubbish summary, but you should read it.
Relationships: Joan/Charlie Bennett, Zoey Clarke/Joan
Comments: 23
Kudos: 31





	1. Denial

Chapter One - Denial: 

Try though she might, Zoey was not going to get Joan on the dance floor tonight. Joan had never been much of a dancer, or a party-goer (not since her marriage to Charlie anyway). However, she was especially reserved around her work colleagues. Back in her college days at MIT, it might have been a different story. In fact, she frequently had a bit too much to drink and enjoyed herself on class nights out. She could barely remember a weekend she didn't wake up with the worst headache ever and the resolution that she would never drink again. Joan graduated as one of the top students in her class, but at least she knew how to balance her work with her life. Charlie put a prompt end to that.

Charlie didn't like when she had too much to drink, so as a general rule, she only allowed herself 3 drinks at any event. She was currently on drink number 3.

It went without saying that her team at SPRQ-Point had never seen the fun Joan. They saw the short tempered, irate Joan who just wanted everyone to be as smart as she was. They saw Joan Bennett, overworked millionaire who doesn't believe in dancing and hardcore drinking at work events. What they didn't see was freshly married, 30 year old Joan Bennett falling over at parties after one too many glasses of champagne and making a fool of herself on the dance floor. No, she was much more content being a wallflower on the edges of the fun. After all, that's where she should have been.

There was something a little different about this party though.

This party was about Joan, it was to celebrate _her_ work and _her_ team. Shouldn't she be enjoying herself? After all, her whole team was making a fool of themselves. Zoey and Simon were dancing like a pair of morons and had been for around 2 hours. Max and his very odd date had had so much to drink that they could barely walk in a straight line. Leif and Tobin were greeting every major player in the tech industry with wide grins and the proclamation _"You are literally the reason I studied computer science! You're my hero!"_

Everyone made a fool of themselves at these things, she realised. Why was tonight different?

Zoey's light blue eyes caught hers across the dance floor once more, a familiar look of concern evident across her features. _Gosh,_ she hated sympathy. There was nothing she wanted less than sympathy (except maybe cancer, but then, she suspected it would probably still be less uncomfortable). It wasn't useful. It was a stupid thing to feel. What good did sympathy do? And why was Zoey even feeling it at all? Joan and Charlie would be absolutely fine. There was no need to treat her like fine China; she wasn't going to break at the slightest little bump.

Had Joan been a different person, maybe she would have been touched by the young woman's concern. She might have even asked for a hug after all these years of big fights with her husband. After all, isn't that what having friends was for? 

She honestly didn't know; she didn't really have any friends.

She was Joan Bennett; she didn't need any friends. She was far too tough and far too clever to need friends or sympathy or hugs. 

So instead of relenting to Zoey's stupid sad eyes, she gravitated towards the bar. Free martinis? Couldn't say no to that. She'd be breaking her ' _3 drinks only'_ rule, but that didn't seem to matter. She could have one more, right?

 _Charlie should have been here_ , she thought, admiring the event for the first time tonight. The instagram celebrities and the tech bloggers, hell, even her employees seemed to be really enjoying themselves. They would have stood in the crowd, wouldn't dare join in the fun. But he should have been by her side, he should have done the demo and he should have cleared his schedule so he could stay past 9.30. He should have wanted to stay the whole night. 

Although, maybe _she_ shouldn't have pushed him at lunch yesterday. _She_ shouldn't have spoken to Zoey about their marriage. _She_ shouldn't have spoken to him the way she did yesterday. Maybe if _she_ had been a better wife, Charlie would have wanted to stay the whole night. She shouldn't have expected so much from him and then maybe he would have loved her the way she wanted to be loved, if only _she_ had been better.

Once she arrived at the bar, she ordered her fourth martini to try and settle her nerves. Ice. Vermouth. Stir. Strain. Gin. Stir. Strain. Olives.

 _"You should have ordered water. Remember where you are,"_ Charlie would have said, hand just a little too tight below her elbow. He would have added, in faux concern _, "That's your fourth drink, Joanie."_

He said she was an embarrassing drunk, so she hadn't even been remotely tipsy in around 7 years. It was his first big launch party, ironically, and he had told her his colleagues were laughing at her. She hadn't done it again because he'd asked her not to. Only a few months ago, Charlie had been so drunk (at a party she wasn't allowed to go to) that he'd stumbled into bed at 4am inviting her to cuddle with him. 

"Hey, Joan," Zoey greeted, appearing by her side. She said nothing else, only watched as the bartender placed her SPRQ-tini before her and ordered her own drink - a Diet Coke.

Joan glanced over at the young woman, wondering if she should change out her martini for a water. How would Charlie have felt if he knew she was drinking more than the _3 drink_ rule allowed for? She could feel a heat pass over her cheeks, embarrassed about ordering the 4th drink.

"I'm not a big drinker," Zoey said, seeming to read her mind. Joan could only nod in reply, but she didn't dare take a sip of the martini. She didn't know what was stopping her, but somehow every single time she thought of taking a sip, she could feel her body flinch. _That's your fourth drink, Joanie._

Zoey's hand crept onto her arm, in that same spot Charlie held her when she'd had to much to drink, and spoke softly, "Joan."

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to go home? Get some rest, maybe? I can keep an eye on things here."

She shook her head, forcing a smile onto her face, "No, thank you, Zoey. I'm fine. I think I'm going to wait for the party to finish up here and try and catch up on some work. It's been so hectic with the launch party that I'm afraid I may be long overdue to catch up on some emails."

"But Joan, it's nearly midnight. You should go home. Emails can wait."

Feeling ambushed all of a sudden, she leaned in to take a sip of her drink before remembering that 3 drinks was more than enough and she should remember where she was. She put it down on the nearest table and turned to the young coder.

"Joan, are you-"

"Zoey, enough," she snapped, before immediately softening. "I'm fine. Really."

She nodded, "Okay, if you're sure."

Once she left, Joan took a deep, shaky breath. She was fine. She and Charlie would be fine (they always seemed to work these things out). She just had to apologise. She just had to be better.

It hit her pretty quickly though; they had been doing this for 20 years now. Joan had been trying to be better for 20 years now, and seemingly, doing a pretty poor job of it. She always seemed to do something that pushed him too far and she never seemed to learn. Maybe they weren't going to be together forever-

No, she was going to change. She was going to be better.

Simon, now at her side, greeted her with a sad smile. Wasn't he dancing with Zoey a moment ago? With a sad smile, he nodded seeming to know something was wrong but not entirely sure what it was. Had Zoey said something to him? No. She wouldn't. Would she?

"Joan, I'm going to head now, if you don't mind."

"Sure," she replied. "See you in the morning."

He acknowledged her with a nod, but didn't seem to budge. What did he want to say? What could he possibly want to say?

"Joan." he started, looking down at his brown Oxford shoes. "What happened to Charlie?"

Her heart stopped, _how dare he ask her that!_ She was frozen for just a moment - reprimand him and he'll know there's a problem, lie and he might just leave her alone.

"Oh, he was sick. He's been off for days. I really shouldn't have pushed him to do the demo."

Simon shrugged, "I'm sure he understands, you just wanted to share your work with him. I get it."

_No, Simon. You really, really don't get it._

Joan smiled that faux smile once more, but she knew it was nowhere near her eyes. Simon smiled and headed for home, leaving her alone with her thoughts at last. Zoey had joined her DJ friend in the booth, Max and his date had either went home or were making out in the bathrooms (millennials were disgusting), Leif and Tobin were back on the dance floor - but Joan only wanted for the party to end and for her husband to come back. She wanted to find Charlie and take him travelling the world again, back to the days of gondolas and having sex on Richard Branson's private island. She didn't care about the stupid watch. She didn't care about Zoey's worried glances. 

She just wanted Charlie to want to work on this. 

She went back to the bar and ordered another martini, only this time she drank it. _It was not over with Charlie. They were going to make it work._ _But it was going to hurt her._

Charlie would never physically hurt her; that wasn't her concern. No, he'd take a young woman back to his suite at The Fairmont. Maybe he'd do it in their house and make her feel like she was crazy for being angry at him.

She hoped not.

Party-goers moved purposefully around her as the music came to a sudden halt. Was the party really over? She looked at the time on her watch - 1.30am. Christ, she was tired. She couldn't go home, though. What if Charlie really did have some gorgeous woman back at the house, having mind blowing sex on her favourite couch? What if they were doing it in their bed? Would he really do that?

 _Joan, you know he will_ , she thought, tears pricking at the back of her eyes and a lump rising in her throat.

"Joan," Zoey said, bringing her out of her unpleasant thoughts. Joan threw her a tired smile, before realising she was in the same spot she had polished off her martini in around an hour ago. Zoey didn't seem to notice, though, probably consumed by her own fatigue. No wonder, Zoey had worked hard on this launch.

"You heading home?"

Zoey nodded, "Yeah. I just wanted to let you know before I went."

"Okay. Thanks for everything today, Zoey. You worked hard."

The redhead looked up at her for the first time in hours, "You and Charlie..."

"Are going to be okay. Really. We have bad fights all the time," Joan smiled. Zoey looked back at her almost... disappointed? She'd said it herself; she thought Joan deserved better than Charlie. But she was only getting a snapshot of the couple's marriage. Charlie was horrible yesterday, she couldn't deny that. But Zoey never saw behind the scenes. She never had to witness Joan's mood swings and attacks when Charlie's focus hadn't been entirely on her or when he had to work late on her birthday or how he'd told her not to cry at her mother's funeral. She could have dealt with things better, _she_ could have been better. 

So, no, it was the other way around; Joan didn't deserve Charlie. And now she was going to make it right.

"Okay," Zoey relented, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "I don't know how you do it, Joan. I'm exhausted."

"Well, I've got 15 years on you, kid," she smiled sincerely. "Go home, get some rest. God knows you've earned it."

"You want us in at 8?"

"Make it 9, you all deserve a break."

Zoey smiled once more, "So do you, Joan."

Joan watched her leave before shaking hands with influencers and tech gurus alike. She put on her best smile, that which she had spent hours perfecting and held herself together. She would be fine. She and Charlie would be fine. They were both upset, but they'd be fine once they'd given each other some space. This was transient and everything would be okay. There was no need to be upset. With time, her relationship, too, would be fine. 

Joan didn't go home that night, too afraid to find her husband with another woman. She peeled her blazer from her body and rolled up the sleeves on her blouse, ready to clear every last unread email from her inbox. 

_Budgeting (ugh). Changes to HR policy (boring!). A conference invite to LA next week (tempting?). Catering invoice. The receipt from Charlie's sushi yesterday._

She looked down at her SPRQ-watch - 3.45am. She had went approximately 2 hours without thinking about Charlie. Damn him and his stupid California rolls.

Joan grimaced at herself - when did she become the sort of woman who fell apart after a fight with her husband?

When did she become so pathetic?

Charlie had slept with other women before - what made the mere thought of it feel quite so terrifying this time?

* * *

Her eyes struggled open after what only felt like 10 minutes and felt her eyes adjust painfully to the day light. Her blazer was placed delicately over her shoulders and her back was aching - had she really fallen asleep at her desk? Her eyes darted around the office to make sure no one was in, but met Zoey's gaze as she stood at the office door. 

"Zoey, I thought I said 9?"

The young woman shifted, "Joan, it's nearly half past. I came in about an hour ago and you were asleep - did you go home at all last night?"

Joan didn't bother answering her, instead, reaching into her bag for her hairbrush. She sighed in realising she would flatten her curls, but decided it was better than nothing. Teasing out some knots, she threw it back into her bag and moved over to the coffee machine next. Placing a mug under the machine, she hit 'espresso' and listened to the beans grinding and the machine begin to pour.

"Would you like a coffee, Zoey?"

"No, thank you. Joan, why did you sleep in the office last night?"

She spun round aggressively, hoping Zoey might correct her over-familiarity. They'd only been friends for 2 days, she really ought to learn some boundaries. But upon meeting Zoey's sad, concerned complexion, she forced herself to soften. _She doesn't mean any harm, she doesn't know what your marriage is really like._

Joan shrugged, removing her mug from under the machine and taking a sip which almost burned her lips. 

"I was giving Charlie some space. The fact I cleared my inbox was just an added bonus."

Zoey took a seat, "Doesn't he have his suite at the Fairmont?"

"I wanted to give him the choice. Now, team meeting in 10 minutes?"

"Joan," she said sadly, "You slept in your office. You're wearing your party clothes. Are you sure you don't want to-"

"Zoey, just stop. I'll be fine. We don't have time for this today. I'm going to L.A on Monday for a couple of days, so really, a stupid fight with Charlie is the least of my concerns."

"You're going to L.A?"

"Yes."

"Since when?" Zoey pressed. Joan downed the rest of her espresso and forced herself to calm down. 

"Last minute offer from UCLA to speak at their innovation conference, space at a booth to promote the SPRQ-watch. Why not? I decided I'd go - you're more than capable of handling things here."

But Zoey pressed on, "Joan, don't you want to stay here, work on things with Charlie? Maybe take some time to process?"

"Charlie and I will be fine. He's going to want to be alone and I want to do the conference. Charlie won't want to talk about it straight away, so why not go away, get some sales in for the watch and come back with a clear head. _Now,_ if it's not too much trouble, could you please let everyone know there will be a team meeting in 10 minutes? I am going to change my blouse and while I'm doing that, could you warn anyone that dreams of mentioning my sleeping at the desk to start working on their resignations. I'm not in the mood today."

.X.


	2. Anger

Chapter 2: Anger

Joan had put up with a lot from Charlie over the years. He had cheated on her, controlled her and put her down - and she'd allowed it, had taken it with such little resistance she didn't even recognise herself looking back on the last 20 years. But she could deal with that stuff over and over again if it meant she got to keep her husband. Charlie was worth all the pain, because for all the hurt he caused, there was an equal amount of joy he brought to her. She put up with all of that because she was in love with him, and she'd never tire of telling him; though it was hard and hardly ever returned.

What she would not tolerate, however, was being ignored by her own husband.

Somehow that felt so much worse than her husband sleeping with young women on his nights out and the way he rarely ever even complimented her even when she made a special effort with her hair or when she got a big win at work, seemed like nothing by comparison to Charlie pretending she didn't exist.

That was just too far. 

She had texted Charlie to let him know about the L.A trip, and she didn't hear a thing on the Friday. It didn't matter, she'd hoped a night in his suite at The Fairmont might have been enough time to cool down, that Charlie would be waiting for her on the sofa when she got home from work that night. She was so hopeful, in fact, that she'd knocked off at 6 to go home and talk things through. When she walked through the door, the only greetings she got were desperate cries for attention from the dogs. Charlie wasn't here, the cleaner informed her. He hadn't been home since the day he blew up at Joan and Zoey.

He didn't reply to her text on the Saturday, either. Nor on the Sunday before she went to L.A. She had even checked her phone before she got on the flight and it was radio silence. Her optimism from the night of the party was quickly dissipating, replaced with something she could only identify as frustration. No, it was worse. What was it?

"Now, Ms Bennett, tell us. What sets the SPRQ-Watch apart from its competitors? We know that smart watches aren't exactly an original ideas. What makes your watch different?"

It was Tuesday and still no word from Charlie. She was currently on a Women in Technology panel with some of the smartest women in the industry, and her mind was on her husband. She couldn't have cared any less about the watch with the thought of returning to an empty bed on Thursday evening plaguing her mind. Joan looked out to the audience; students, professors, industry leaders waiting for her answers. She was supposed to be so happy.

How dare Charlie be in her head right now? This was a big moment for her; a tribute to her career so far. It was a testament to her efforts during college, her work at Google and how she had risen through the ranks at both Google and SPRQ-Point. She was supposed to talk about all the products she had played a role in developing and launching products and services (the SPRQ-Watch was just the latest in a long list). This wasn't her first time answering questions and giving a talk at a conference, but it _was_ the first time she didn't doubt that she deserved to be there. Not only was Charlie ignoring her, but why hadn't he ever told her she deserved to be celebrated? She told him over and over again how fantastic his game updates and launches were, how clever he was and how good he looked.

Why did he never tell her how clever she was?

She smoothed down the front of her blazer and lifted up her chin a little in defiance, "Well, there are some really good watches on the market, let's be honest. Not only is the SPRQ-watch much cleaner than it's competitors, however, it can also perform a greater variety of functions, especially in the area of health monitoring. The ability to track blood pressure and oxygen saturation in the blood, for example. Not only have we excelled ourselves with the software on this watch, but the hardware is especially elegant in comparison to other smart watches such as the Apple Watch or Fitbit."

A young woman in the audience put her hand up, question evidently burning. Joan indicated for a mic to be passed to the woman, suddenly distracted by a whirlwind of thoughts. Why wasn't Charlie responding to her text messages? Had he really stayed in the Fairmont since the day the fought over trays of sushi? How was the office doing without her? Oh, God- why had she left Zoey in charge? Could Tobin really be left alone? What if he brought another stupid animal to work? Would Zoey feel confident enough to tell him off? What if-

"Ms Bennett?"

"What?" she snapped and for a moment the audience was quiet. Joan took a shaky sip of her glass of water and tried to calm herself down. _It's not this girl's fault Charlie doesn't want you._

"I asked you about the price point for the watch, Ms Bennett."

That feeling that she initially identified as frustration was back and quickly rising from the pit of her stomach. _Calm down, Joan. This is not the place._ She took another breath and thought about the price point of the watch. Luxury hardware. Strong, yet clean software.

_What if Charlie was sleeping with someone else?_

"Well that information _is_ available online. But if I had to compare it to another watch on the market, I'd say it's comparable in price to the Apple Watch."

"Is that _really_ fair pricing?" she asked. "Apple has been around since the 70s, SPRQ-Point is less than 10 years old."

What she should have said was along the lines of; _you're right, and isn't it amazing what we've achieved in 10 years compared with a company as established as Apple?_

That's what she should have said.

"If that's how you feel, I suggest you buy an Apple Watch then," she snapped, once more knowing she had crossed a line. She felt the unfamiliar prick of tears in her eyes and the sudden rising of bile rising in her stomach. _Shit._

She mumbled an apology and hurried off of the stage, promptly bursting into a jog to find the nearest toilet. What the hell was wrong with her? The girl had only asked a question and Joan had bitten her head off. The whole point of women in tech events were to foster a spirit in young women that they could achieve anything they set their minds to, that the older, more established women in the industry were at the very least, approachable. Joan hadn't always been wealthy and outspoken; she'd gotten just about everything she'd ever wanted because she'd worked for it. She couldn't help but wonder if she'd have had the same confidence that she had today if someone had spoken to her the way she did to that young woman. 

She made it to the toilet just in time to throw up in the bowl, her body suddenly far too warm in spite of the venue's intense air-conditioning. As her entire body slumped into the bowl with fatigue, she held back her hair in a bunch and continued to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. If her marriage wasn't hanging on by a thread, she might have been mortified at herself; snapping at college freshmen for asking for the reasoning behind her product pricing and now sitting on the floor of some conference centre's bathroom in a gorgeous Vivienne Westwood ensemble shaking like an idiot.

She was pathetic and made peace with that.

She was also just so tired, yet so damn angry at Charlie for _everything_ over the years. Joan had been very clear, she wanted to try and fix things. She was angry at the party but that didn't mean she wanted it to be over. All Joan wanted was for him to stay the whole night and see all her hard work in motion and for him to launch the product and to be by her side and to say _'how great is my wife? Aren't I the luckiest guy on the planet?'_ and then to tell her over and over again that she was so wonderful and talented and beautiful and to have wonderful sex and to bring her coffee in the morning to combat her headache from one too many martinis.

Joan didn't expect too much from him; she deserved to be angry with him that night because _he_ should have been better. 

She could accept that she overreacted more often than not, that maybe she should have went along with his way off doing things more often and that she was far too guilty of _making this into a thing_. But at that party, at the meeting with Zoey, she deserved to be listened to. She did not overreact when Charlie left the party early; she was his wife and he should have made himself available until she was finished. That night should have been on her terms, and she should not have had her product handed to her like it was her wedding ring. He should have wanted to fix it there and then. Charlie was the one who should have been better - at the launch party, at least, Joan had every damn right to make his awful behaviour into _a thing._

Finally, her stomach seemed to be empty and she sat back until her head was resting against the stall door, body overcome with nausea and exhaustion. She was hit with the sudden realisation that she was on a horrible bathroom floor in one of the nicest suits she owned, and stripped from her suit jacket, wincing at how disgusting she felt. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in days and so had mostly thrown up bile, which explained the burning in her throat and the reason she felt especially nauseous right now.

Joan loved most food (not sushi) and got a real joy out of trying new restaurants. For some reason, though, she hadn't wanted to eat since the day Charlie had tore into Zoey at the office. She'd had this feeling of dread building in her stomach ever since and somehow, it made the thought of anything heavier than coffee extremely off-putting. _Gosh, she felt dreadful._

Eventually, Joan got up and went to the mirror to clean herself up. The blazer would need to stay off, she noted. She looked into the mirror and saw black rings beneath bright blue eyes. Had she been crying? She didn't remember crying. Joan hadn't cried since her mother died, and before that, it was tears of joy from getting into college. Although she was usually pale, her face had taken on a new shade of pale which was almost transparent. She could wipe off the mascara and dry her eyes, but not much she could do about being pale. 

A soft knock came from the door outside, and Joan went back into work mode. One final swipe of underneath her eyes and she tried to summon the sense of defiance she had felt earlier before facing whoever had drawn the short straw to go check on her. _Pull yourself together, Joan._

_This isn't you._

"Joan," spoke a New Yorker on her right as she exited the bathroom. "You look like shit."

Alan Johnson, a former Google colleague who now lectured at UCLA, had been sent it seemed. People like Alan didn't go check on women throwing up/crying in the bathroom of their own. Not possible. Maria, the organiser, must have sent him.

"Thanks Alan," she replied with a weak smile. "Sorry, I think I ate something weird at breakfast and I've been sick all morning. I shouldn't have bothered with the panel, but I didn't want to let Maria down. Do I need to apologise to the girl?"

He shook his head, "I don't think so. Just try not to make anymore college students cry, alright?"

"No promises," she mumbled. "Hey, do you mind if I go back to my hotel and try and sleep this off? I'd rather be on my game for tomorrow's demo than go out for karaoke tonight. Do you mind?"

He looked her over once more, making her feel so small by comparison. He was always well-kept, lovely suits and briefcases worn at all times. He wasn't a particularly approachable or warm guy, but he and Joan were pretty similar. Ambitious and a little scary at times, sure, but he was the sort of person who you could count on and Joan liked that. It wasn't like he was ever really an option for her, but especially not now in her disheveled and pale state. And plus, there was no world where smelling like regurgitated coffee was sexy in any possible way. 

"I'm going to ask you something, Joan and I want you not to get mad at me. Do you promise?'

"Nope, but you can ask me anyway."

He took a deep breath, "Are you alright? Like really alright, I mean."

No,she conceded to herself.

She really wasn't alright. The vomit on the bottom of her suit pants was evidence enough of that.

* * *

She had tried so hard to sleep when she got back to her hotel room, but every minute was spent trying not to think of Charlie. The decision to avoid thoughts of her husband were so challenging, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. She was wide awake and with every hour that passed, the rage that had led her to kneeling over the toilet at the convention centre was back and she was no longer attempting to stifle it.

It had got to 6PM and she still wasn't really to eat anything, but she was absolutely more than ready for a bottle of wine. 

She had called up room service, requesting a bottle and a glass to be sent to her room. The most expensive or the cheapest, she had never really minded. Joan wasn't typically a big drinker, so wine usually went to her head quicker than it did most women her age.

One glass down, and she was a little more tired than she was earlier. It would have been nice if she finally could have caught a decent sleep, but she would settle for just feeling more relaxed.

When the bottle was around halfway done, she decided to check her phone again.

11AM: Danny Michael Davis - _Heard the launch party was great. Next time, let's go for radical. Remember to think bigger and better and all that. Say thanks to the team for me._

1PM: Danny Michael Davis - _Got a call from someone at the conference, I feel like shouting at college kids might be bad for business._

1.30PM: Dogwalker - _Joan, can you give me a call about this month's payment when you get a chance?_

4PM: Zoey Clarke - _Hey, everything has been fine here, I'll fill you in properly on Thursday. I'm a little worried about you, here if you need me. Here if you don't._

Not a work from Charlie. What was he playing at? Did he mention any work meetings or trips coming up? He was going to New York at the end of the month and then London the week after, but he was supposed to be at work in San Francisco this week. Why wasn't he answering his phone?

Draining the rest of the contents of her wine glass, she refilled it and contemplated her options carefully. She could speak to Zoey, she had offered after all and she did seem to care, at least a little. But Zoey was her subordinate, and she wasn't sure if they were just boss and subordinate, or if they were really friends. Joan didn't really have any friends, she supposed she had Charlie to thank for-

That's it!

She plucked up the courage and just called him, Charlie, her husband, like it was the most natural thing in the world. While the call rang, she polished off yet another glass as the pounding in her heart subsided and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid to tell him how badly he had hurt her. She wasn't going to be ignored anymore and he was going to listen to her. Just as soon as she found that damn bottle of wine.

As she was reaching for it, the call connected and Joan was met with a soft, "Hello?"

She took a second to pull away from the phone to make sure she had called the right number. It said 'Charlie' so why was a woman answering his phone? Was it his assistant at work or- Oh! Oh, shit. Her heart sank.

"Can I speak to my husband, please?"

"Sure," the girl replied, and then Joan heard her whisper to Charlie; "You told me you were divorced."

With a heavy sigh, Charlie was on the line, "What is it, Joan?"

"What is it? Charlie you've ignored me since Friday! You seen a text message from me and you chose to ignore it. The cleaner told me you've not been in the house since last week. You can't just leave the dogs alone, Charlie. And what about me? Do you not want to fix this?"

"Well," he replied carefully. "I don't want you to work yourself up over this - you know how you get sometimes - but I'm in the house now. So the dogs have been fed and walked and watered. You don't need to worry about that."

"How are you so fucking calm! You're a dick Charlie. You brought another woman into _my_ house, _our_ house and you think that's okay! I know the dogs are fine, it's _us_ I'm worried about," she shouted, perhaps too loud for her neighbours and the sophisticated atmosphere one was supposed to embody at a hotel like this. Joan didn't care, she was almost a bottle of wine down and she deserved to have what she wanted to say, said.

"Right, I just need the truth, Charlie. Do you have any interest in repairing this marriage?"

"No," he said, far too quickly. "I want out."

The moment he hung up, she launched her new, overpriced iPhone against the wall. It collided with a smash and the screen fell to pieces on the ground by the window. She sunk back on to the bed as tears begun to cascade down her cheeks, hot and without restraint. She wanted the bed to suck her in and swallow her whole. She was alone for the first time in 20 years and had no idea how to live her life without the idea of having someone waiting on her at night.

She poured herself the last drops from the bottle of wine, fighting against the bile rising in her throat once more. 

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just your daily reminder to stay safe and remember how hot Lauren Graham as Joan is. That's all x
> 
> I also had so much trouble with this chapter, I'm like the least angry person you will ever meet. That's all, hope the next one is better :D


	3. Bargaining

Chapter 3 - Bargaining

She woke up the following morning with a pain in her head attacking her every which way she moved. As her eyes connected with the empty bottle of wine on the nightstand, it wasn't difficult to understand why - she was hungover. She hadn't been hungover in years, not this badly anyway. 

One of the first things she could remember her father tell her was _never drink on an empty stomach, Joanie._ That's why at college she always made a conscious effort to eat a burger before any big nights out or at least, to ensure she was having a glass of water every now and then. She was fun back then, but always sensible thanks to her father's wisdom around the subject of alcohol.

If only she'd had her father's wisdom before she decided to order a bottle of wine to the room last night.

The last time she'd got drunk, she couldn't remember much about it, but she had a feeling she hadn't had her pre-drink burger that night. She was pretty sure she still worked at Google at that point it was so long ago, and she knew Charlie had to come get her from The Tenderloin on the brink of a mugging. She'd woke up tucked under a blanket on the couch with a pot of coffee in front of her and the harsh greeting _"Don't you dare ever do that again"._

 _Oh God, Charlie._ How had she forgotten about Charlie?

She darted up in bed (much to the distress of her pounding head) and reached for her phone; 9.30am?! Fuck, she had to be at the conference centre in an hour. And even worse than that, Charlie hadn't even tried to reach out to her. She'd had emails from Simon and Danny Michael Davis, a text from Zoey and a missed call from the cleaner (probably to remind her that it's not her job to feed and walk the dogs). 5 Facebook notifications, 14 Twitter notifications, but not a damn thing from Charlie.

_He left you last night, Joan. Why would he try and call you? Why would he tweet you or text you? You mean nothing to him._

Grabbing her Louboutins and a co-ordinating suit, she got ready for the day ahead, trying to push all thoughts of her husband from her mind. The nausea remained (whether it was from the alcohol or the stress of yesterday, she wasn't sure), but a couple of espressos later, at least the headache began to lift. She curled her hair and plastered her face in heavy coverage makeup, and somehow managed to get to the venue on time. Laptop bag in hand and a case of SPRQ-Watches under her arm, she was even able to compartmentalise for a while. She had to make up for yesterday's performance on the panel and really wow everyone with her demo. She had to sell watches and be charming and answer questions and try to put a smile and everything would be fine. She didn't need Charlie. She'd be fine.

Right?

"Up next on the stage is the person you should all want to be when you grow up. MIT-educated, Silicon Valley-seasoned and utterly brilliant, I present to you; Joan Bennett, here to demo the SPRQ-Watch."

She racked her brain for who on Earth this presenter was or what he did for a living; but she drew a blank. She was always hopeless with names and details at work, as well as her personal life. It wasn't just the accounting team and networking contacts she didn't know from Adam, she couldn't remember Charlie's sister's name for months when they first started dating. Gosh, she remembered that argument. Remember the days when Charlie didn't completely ignore her? Remember when he used to indulge her in an argument? Remember when he'd at least book a hotel room to commit adultery in?

 _Kate,_ that was his sister's name. Kate was a real-life Columbia-educated, gorgeous embodiment of the American Dream. She was a cardiologist at John Hopkins, married to an equally as gorgeous accountant and owned a house in the suburbs of Baltimore where the kids all rode their bikes and practiced for football games in the front yard. _You should be more like Kate_ , isn't that what Charlie always said? He had always wanted a stay at home wife who wasn't quite as ambitious as Kate, but like his younger sister, was _oh-so-obedient_ to her gorgeous and successful husband. He wanted a trophy wife, one who would stay attached to his arm at functions and would never, ever drink too much. She knew Charlie wanted at least one kid, but Joan had just refused time and time again. She wanted to run a Silicon Valley tech company and be featured on some list on the _Forbes_ site which showcased successful/rich/amazing people. She wasn't interested in ruining her body with pregnancy or waking up on the middle of the night to feed a baby or taking time off of work to go to high school football matches or visiting colleges on the weekends in senior year. There was nothing wrong with those ordinary things. But Joan was never interested in the ordinary, the mundane. 

But maybe if she _had_ been interested in all those things, she might still have a husband.

Harnessing the power of all those espressos she drank in the hotel room, she managed to hold a grin and walk onto the stage with a level of confidence she wished she truly felt. She shook the man's hand, managing to hide her disgust at his tweed suit, round framed glasses and mustered up a sincere _'_ Thank you _so_ much for having me' even though she could think of around a million other places she would rather be. Joan was a lot of things, but a good public speaker was not one of them. She used to be, but as she got older, she became quietly nervous at the mere thought of speaking to a crowd. She accepted it would not be one of her strengths again and she gave it the good old college try.

She recalled Charlie's Ted Talk that even Leif raved about when he thought she couldn't hear him. It was TedXCaltech in 2017, and she had watched from the side of the stage with pride. That was her husband up there... giving a Ted Talk! She was just so incredibly happy for him. He deserved it. He'd managed to create a gaming world that so many adults and kids alike had utterly fallen in love with. Charlie wasn't particularly book smart, but that hardly mattered in the scheme of things. She was so incredibly proud of him and she made no attempt to hide it.

But she'd also found herself wondering " _Could I ever do that?"._ It seemed like a sign you'd really made it in your field if your Alma Matter reached out and asked you to submit a proposal for a Ted Talk, and all Joan ever really wanted was some kind of reassurance that she'd somewhat made it; as an innovator, a leader and maybe even as a wife. 

_"Do you think MIT will ever ask me to give a talk?"_ she had asked him casually over their dinner that night. They had went to some really expensive restaurant in Pasadena and Charlie had been on his phone for most of the meal, scrolling through Twitter, occasionally chuckling to himself at a text message. Joan wouldn't dare pull her own phone out to amuse herself. He would have hated that.

 _"Well,"_ he sneered, looking up from his phone for just a minute. _"Today isn't about you, Joan."_

She was taken aback, _"No, babe, that's not what I meant. I just mean... Do you think they'd ever ask me to do something as cool as that? Give a Ted Talk, I mean. Or any talk?"_

Charlie softened for a moment, and she had thought this was it. Maybe he would finally tell her how wonderful and clever she was, how MIT would be lucky to have such a renowned guest like her at _a_ _dinner party_ , never mind at some conference. But then he took a sip of his wine, seeming to size her up and she waited with nervous anticipation for his answer. She valued his opinion on these things. She really, really did.

_"Didn't Buzz Aldrin go to MIT? Richard Feynman?"_

_"Yeah, I think so?"_

He nodded sympathetically, _"Then, Joanie; I think they'd find the technology to bring Feynman back from the dead before they'd ask you to talk about your... career."_

And for some reason now, looking out into a crowd of UCLA students, that same painful lump in her throat had formed as it did all those years ago after such a nasty comment. Was that it? Was that why Charlie looked for attention from other women? Because she couldn't just stay in her lane?

This wasn't the time for any self-doubt. She couldn't run off the stage and go vomit somewhere again. She had to give this demo.

She just couldn't believe how quickly her confidence had dissipated from mere moments ago. She had the Louboutins on, and one of the most beautiful suits she owned, but she felt like she just didn't shape up. Joan was a terrible public speaker, but she never, ever got stage fright. This was just downright strange.

Forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat, she smiled once more, "So, I've been asked not to make anymore college students cry. Now, I can't make any promises, but this is just a product demo, so I think you should all be safe. If anyone does find themselves getting emotional during this presentation, however, tell someone who cares."

Somehow, she sparked some laughter, and managed to get through the demo as well as the Q&A after. She could tell some questions might have been better suited to yesterday's panel, but given she'd embarrassed herself and run off stage to have what she could only assume was the beginning of a panic attack, she wasn't all that fussed about answering some off-topic questions. She had made sure to answer the question on the SPRQ-Watch's price point this time, and like Alan had asked her not to do, she had been pleasant enough to everyone and she didn't think she made anyone cry today.

Gosh, she still felt awful about that.

Next on the agenda was the coffee break with tables upon tables of hot drinks and snacks. She should have eaten something substantial to try and bring herself out of her first hangover in around 10 years. But every time she reached for one of the dreadful looking sandwiches, her stomach turned. She really should have listened to Charlie's 3 drink rule. She should have just stayed in the tipsy zone last night; she really couldn't handle alcohol. 

Just like Charlie told her she couldn't. 

The booths were her least favourite part of conferences, which was why she usually got one of the interns to man the booth while she went off networking and indulging in free coffee. Joan didn't have that luxury today. The decision to come to the conference was so last minute that she didn't really have time to organise bringing someone else. Well that, and that she knew an outburst like yesterday's was a possibility. She'd rather do it to a room of mostly strangers than some intern who would tell everyone the minute they got back to work. Danny Michael Davis somehow knew what had happened, but she figured if she ignored his text messages long enough, he would eventually forget. Maria, conference organiser must have called him after the fact.

What a bitch.

She couldn't believe she'd let her emotions get the better of her like that. She would never be asked to give a talk ever again, never mind give a Ted Talk at her alma matter one day. Her stupid bastard of a husband told her she wasn't good enough to do the sort of things he did, and she'd set out to prove him wrong. She could be an amazing wife _and_ a successful woman. 

Right?

Wrong.

She wondered if she should have just tried to be a good wife and stuck to her middle management job at Google. That was still a great achievement, right? She had already gotten the foot into a great job at a great company and it was then she felt best in her marriage. It would have been a major sacrifice, but that's what marriage was supposed to be. A sacrifice. And now she didn't even have a marriage to make sacrifices in, all because she had been selfish and Charlie had gotten bored.

"Joan!" greeted _the bitch._ She was being immature, but she didn't care. _The bitch_ was far too chipper and looked far too good compared to Joan today. She was younger, blonde, skinny, well-dressed and looked much prettier with far less makeup than Joan. She imagined it was someone in her league that Charlie had in their house last night, that he had cheated on her with someone so pretty and skinny and blonde. 

"Maria, hi," she smiled, with no attempt to match the organiser's grin. She just didn't like her. 

"How are you, Joan? Are you enjoying today's events?"

She nodded, "Yes. You must be pleased with the turnout."

"I am. Listen, the committee are going out later - I'll be there, Graham, Philip, Alan. Would you like to join us? It's a little bar we like in West Hollywood. A tradition of ours on the night before the last day of conference. It might not be as refined as you're used to, but it could be fun."

Joan sighed, "I'll think about it."

But Joan didn't make it to the bar that night. She had laid a carefully selected outfit on the bed and applied a much more conservative amount of makeup than she had this morning. She had ordered a burger from room service and even managed a couple of bottles of water. She could do this.

Or so she thought.

Zoey had called to give her some updates about the SPRQ-Watch's launch. She sounded exhausted, but that was probably to be expected for someone who's boss had skipped town right after a big launch. Well, she hadn't skipped town. She just... needed out for a couple of days.

 _"It's just the usual teething problems, I think,"_ Zoey had told her, filling her with a pang of guilt that she had left Zoey (who already had enough on her plate) to deal with the aftermath of the launch of a product this big. If she was anyone else, she might have apologised for dumping such a large workload on her. She might have apologised for being so selfish and explained that she was struggling with her separation more than she knew how to say.

But Zoey had found her sleeping at her desk last week and had seemed concerned when she informed her of the trip to LA; of course she was aware how much Joan was struggling. She couldn't just call and ask how Joan was coping with it all, she would have had her head bitten off and her presence ignored at work for at least a week. No, Joan knew she was being tactful. But she wasn't in the mood for it.

_"Anything else?"_

Zoey sighed, _"I guess I just wanted to see how you were. I know the watch is the last thing on your mind right now."_

 _"I'm fine,"_ she snapped. _"I'm fine. The conference is fine. **Everything** is fine."_

_"Danny Michael Davis came by. He said you-"_

_"Sorry, Zoey. I've got to go. You're doing a good job. I'll see you on Friday."_

Pulling away to end the call, she caught sight of her broken phone screen and for some reason, that was the final straw.

She was too emotional - what sort of lunatic launched their phone at a wall. Or was she not emotional enough? Charlie hated it when she was too emotional, but he only wished she could be happier, more approachable.

She hung up on Zoey with a tap of her phone. She had been gentle, but somehow a little piece of glass became embedded in her thumb. She really had to get it fixed when she got the chance. She was just so busy these days.

She should have given Charlie more of her time: maybe then he might have stayed if she had.

Grazing her hands against the silk of her blazer, she stood in front of the mirror looking over herself critically.

Was it because she wasn't pretty enough? Thin enough? Smart enough? She had lost a little weight recently, but had maintained a reasonably toned figure. An Alexander McQueen jacket, the tightest jeans she owned and her favourite heeled boots, she was supposed to feel... hot in this outfit. 

Instead, she felt like a fraud - as though someone as shit as her shouldn't own clothes as nice as these. The jeans that made her feel like she could conquer the world on a normal day, felt today like an inappropriate choice for a woman in her forties. She ran a shaking hand through her dark curls, only wishing she thought going darker and cooler with her colouring was the right choice. Charlie had preferred her auburn, but she thought the black hair was sexier. Was it the lipstick that was wrong? Wasn't red lipstick supposed to be sexy too? Why was she trying to look sexy tonight? She would have to call her pilates instructor in the morning, and maybe her personal trainer, too. It wasn't the lipstick that was the problem; she was.

She should have put her ambitions to one side and been more like Kate. She should have wanted the house in suburban Baltimore , with 2.5 kids and a picket fence. She should have wanted to give up her life for a family. She should have wanted that family.

Tears began to trickle down her cheeks, suddenly and uncontrollably. Falling to her knees in front of the mirror, she tore the blazer from her body and threw it violently to the side. Why hadn't she wanted kids? She would have been a terrible mother, but she could have tried.

She should have been content being a doting wife. Remember all those functions she went off to network, despite her husband's chagrin? She was terrible with names, but she'd always use the notes function on her phone to take a name and number and then she'd spent the next day googling them to try and remember who they were. Why did she do that? Charlie earned enough for them to be more than comfortable without her salary. Why did she need a career, anyway? 

She wanted nothing more than to call room service and request another bottle of that overpriced wine from last night. She'd never really had the chance to learn how to cope with messy emotions like this. She discouraged it in her employees and she certainly wouldn't allow it in herself.

But was alcohol really the answer? Remember the headache from this morning? She shouldn't have pushed the 3 drink rule. He was right, she was embarrassing when she drank alcohol and her body just couldn't handle it. He didn't want her to get hurt, either. Remember the Tenderloin incident?

Was this blonde girl she imagined him with the sort of woman who would drink anymore than 3 drinks? Did she have her heart set on being a CEO one day? This girl would definitely have been content with staying at home all day and worshipping Charlie into the night. She wasn't the sort of girl who'd have to be recovered from the Beirut of San Francisco at 4am or the sort who would make the day of her husband's Ted Talk all about her. No. This girl was obedient. She had to be.

With a heavy heart and a heavier wave of sobs wracking her body, Joan realised she would never be that kind of woman. She was never, ever going to be that woman; the one Charlie Bennett would love and care for. _That was why he left her_ , it was really just that simple. It was so simple it was almost a cliche:

They wanted different things. 

She just didn't know why a couple as educated and intelligent as the Bennetts couldn't work that out before they spent 20 years together. She was so, so sorry he had wasted 20 years hoping she would be the right woman for him. She probably never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter. I spent 3 days working on it and I know it's not great. BUT I'm really looking forward to the next 2 chapters; depression and acceptance :D


	4. Depression

Chapter 4 - Depression

It was the Monday following the conference, as well as Joan's first day back at the office. After calling in sick on Friday and taking the weekend to get her shit together, Joan had finally felt ready to return to work.

She hadn't slept the night before, but she had used the time to go for a swim in the Bay. She was going to make the most of Charlie being gone. She was going to be better; not for Charlie but for herself. She owed it to herself not to wallow.

So she had spent her weekend of getting back on track working on a new regime with her personal trainer. She had met with her life coach over Zoom to discuss how she took her life forward without Charlie.

The solution was simple: _More pilates. More cardio. More swimming in the Bay. More time on the treadmill. More energy into her work. More time doing online classes. More time spent manifesting her own dreams for the future. More travel. More protein. Less carbs. Less sleep. Less alcohol. Less thinking about things that didn't matter._

_Less thinking about Charlie. Less wishing he would come home. Less thinking about all the years he made her feel like she was nothing. Less thinking about all the times they fought. Less wishing he would love her the way she wanted to be loved._

And she was trying, she really was. 

So why was there such a dark cloud hanging over her head?

"Oh hey, Joan," Zoey greeted her, bringing her out of her thoughts. "How's it going?"

Joan's eyes were redirected from their loving gaze towards the baskets upon baskets of bread and croissants to her colleague's concerned blue eyes. She fought the urge to grab a cheese twist, instead taking a steady sip of her espresso. Coffee was great, but it wasn't bread. God, she really missed bread.

"Great, super great," she replied with the most sincere smile she could muster. Zoey looked impressed. Good, maybe pretending to be alright was working just fine for her. 

"Does that mean you and Charlie..."

Back together? No. He'd made it very clear that wasn't an option. 

On amicable terms? No. Separating after 20 years of marriage didn't leave much room for friendship.

And of course, there was the other woman. 

The best she and Charlie could do was to pretend the other didn't exist. She was expecting a call from his lawyer any day now to get the divorce proceedings started, and she knew it wouldn't be long before Charlie came for the rest of his things. Admittedly, she struggled with the thought of Charlie sleeping with young woman and collecting his belongings from the home they had shared for a good chunk of their marriage. But she was helpless for the first time in her life. There was no line of code that was going to sort this out, no amount of makeup sex that could convince her husband to stay.

They were really finished this time, and it hurt more than she had expected.

Joan smiled at her young colleague, "Are basically dead to each other? Yeah."

"Uh, congratulations?"

"This new chapter of my life is all about making healthy choices, and I have never felt better," she continued, Zoey in tow. "I am focused and energised and fully in ketosis."

And also fighting tears most of the time, but Zoey didn't need to know about the dark cloud. Contrary to what the young woman believed, they were nothing more than colleagues. They weren't friends; Joan didn't have those. She was an island.

So, it was enough for Zoey to believe everything was okay. There really wasn't any need for her to know any differently.

Anyway, Zoey had enough going on in her own life without getting absorbed in Joan's shit. This was the worst the dark cloud had ever been, but she could cope on her own. She had done it before and she would do it again.

She had to.

* * *

It was only a day later and that dark cloud she noticed yesterday had only grown darker. She hadn't slept at all last night, haunted by a pain in her chest and an overwhelming feeling of dread which consumed her all through the night. The dogs had joined her on the couch (which she didn't normally allow) and had cuddled into her side as she let herself cry again after days of fighting it.

She really hated herself right about now, and she hated Charlie for doing this to her.

That day at work, she had hidden in her office. One night without sleeping too many and the comedown from a night of anxiety and emotions becoming more than she could cope with, she didn't feel like putting up with the team today. Tobin's laziness and cluttered desk, Max's lack of personality and pining over Zoey, Leif's unpleasant and obnoxious aura and Zoey's... concern was all just too much for her. It was bad enough at the best of times, but especially so when she was feeling this way.

It was after only after lunchtime when she started to feel like the walls of her office were closing in on her. In all honesty, she was so tired she didn't even know she had left her office until she found herself walking past the team she had worked so hard to avoid, a photo of her and Charlie in hand like some stupid, lovesick teenager. 

One of the interns tried to speak to her about the watch interface, but she could only lift her hand in dismissal of the young man. He seemed pleasant enough, but she wasn't interested right now. She just had to keep moving. She needed so desperately to stop thinking. Work (usually her comfort from difficult thoughts) wasn't even making sense to her today her mind was so fried and for the first time since Charlie had asked for a separation, she wanted to call him and beg him to come back. She missed her husband, she hated sleeping on the couch and she couldn't care less about the watch, her work or her team.

She had to get a grip. This was pitiful, and she was better than this.

Slumping down at the bread bar, she rested her head in her arms for only a moment before she heard someone join her. Looking up, she wasn't surprised to see Zoey's eyes looking back at her. She grabbed the first vegetable that her hands could find in the spread and took a bite, hoping Zoey would have stopped watching her. Alas, her gaze remained fixed, dripping with the same concern she had noticed yesterday.

"Jicama?" she asked, wrapping the root plant in a napkin. She wasn't even hungry enough to pretend, she realised sadly. She used to love food. These days, she could manage little more than a cappuccino.

"Are you sure everything's okay with you? Because I feel like maybe it's not."

Nothing got passed Zoey, huh? 

She couldn't even be bothered to fake a smile. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to let the dark cloud rain on her. She'd had enough and she didn't want to be at work. All she could think of was getting home to the dogs and snuggling up with them on the sofa and a bottle of wine.

_Gosh, how was it only Monday?_

"You know, we should really switch this bread bar out to something else. Fruit bar, nut bar... open bar," Joan said, completely ignoring what Zoey had to say. "Have to look into the legalities of that."

Grabbing a pepper from the table, she smiled weakly and headed back to her office - even more depleted than she knew possible. 

Roll on 5PM.

* * *

The rest of the week had dragged by, and Joan just didn't see the point anymore. If she had enough vacation days left, she might have taken the rest of the week to wallow. Unfortunately she only had 10 days left for the rest of the year and she'd rather go on her vacation to Hawaii in a few months than spend the rest of the week crying over a glass of wine. 

So she turned up for work, kept interactions with her subordinates to a minimum and prayed the weekend might arrive a little quicker.

She could only dream of being so lucky.

It was the weekend she had been dreaming of, however, when she finally let the dark cloud rain. 

Waking up on Sunday was when she knew she couldn't go on like this anymore. She needed to be pathetic and to bask in her own misery for a while. Time to lash out, to sob and sob until there were no tears left. It wasn't like her to be so open to her emotions but she didn't know who she was anymore, so what was the harm? She wasn't a huge drinker but in the past week or so, she had drank more than she had in the time since Charlie had warned her never to drink too much again. 

So on Sunday, she decided to let herself cry.

She lay on the sofa until later afternoon, only moving from her position to make sure the dogs were fed and let out, and to make herself some coffee. She was adorned in her comfiest clothes and watched the worst movies she could acquire on Netflix. The desire to eat had not yet returned, but at one point she found that the tears had stopped and she felt like that was progress; at least for now.

Tom Ford and Hermes lay by her side, enjoying a deep sleep she was sure she herself would never be able to acquire. Watching their chests rise and fall, Joan couldn't help but smile at the little creatures she had once had to convince Charlie they needed in their home. First Tom Ford, her German shepherd, then Hermes. Even her husband, the cold and seemingly uncaring bastard had loved those dogs. Or at least, he had respected how much Joan had loved them.

But it was on Sunday she realised she wasn't entirely alone, too.

It was at the time she was thinking about ordering a pizza, when the had doorbell sounded and the previously sleeping dogs were up and by the door, barking excitedly at the prospect of less melancholy company, she presumed. She'd consumed considerable energy in moving from her cosy spot on the sofa and to the door, worn from hours of crying and sedentary activity. But upon opening the door, she was momentarily confused to see there was no one behind it, only a small box.

"Tom Ford! Hermes! Come here. Let's see who's there."

A cake. Who the fuck would put a cake on her door? Was it some kind of joke? What a weird joke. On closer inspection, she noticed a blue sticky note reading:

_On the 7th day, God rested and ate carbs. Xo, Zoey._

And for the first time in a long time, she laughed. Not a guffaw by any means. But a small, sincere little chuckle.

It was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. Just doubting like every single thing I do of late and didn't want this to be lame. Hope it wasn't - please review.


	5. Acceptance

Chapter 5 - Acceptance:

It was almost exactly 2 weeks after they had filed for divorce when a process server arrived at SPRQ-Point with a brown manila envelope she immediately recognised. It was plain and without any defining characteristics, but she just knew they were her divorce papers.

She had expected to feel sad when the papers were finally served, and in noting the slightly depressive mood she had been in for weeks, it was far from an unrealistic expectation. She had expected to want to curl up in a ball and die. She had expected to be as distraught as the girls in movies who stay in their pyjamas all day and cry into a comically large tub of Ben and Jerry's. She had expected to want to burn everything Charlie left behind, freeing her from his grasp.

Oddly enough, none of those things happened.

Instead, she felt the need to make up for lost time.

But she wasn't angry anymore, she didn't really resent her ex-husband. In fact, she had told him that she would pack his things for him and keep it all until such a time as he was ready to collect them. She didn't him to be under pressure to find a new place; if he was comfortable enough in the Fairmont for a couple more weeks, then she didn't mind holding onto his things.

Also, divorce negotiations had went by quicker than she had expected. She had expected him to be spiteful, to want to make the process as difficult as possible for her. He really didn't. In fact, he was uncharacteristically pleasant about the whole thing.

He gave her the house and the dogs, only wanting his own car and the shared car. He didn't really like the dogs, and he knew how much they meant to her - so even he knew that would have been just one step too far. He didn't spend much time in the house - usually traveling or sleeping with young women in hotel rooms. And why should he take her Range Rover when he much preferred his Tesla?

Whether his kindness was more about practicality than genuine decency, Joan wasn't sure. But regardless of his intentions, she was grateful to him for not allowing her to go homeless or to lose the dogs. The Range Rover was an added bonus.

So when she came to sign her name beside the _x_ Charlie's lawyer had annotated, Joan scribbled her signature with a surprising amount of certainty.

This is what she wanted, she realised. And she knew that life really could only get better.

She just wasn't sure where to start.

She had done enough grieving for her marriage, though, and it was time to start living.

* * *

Joan was a successful woman, but she was also a loner. It was a horrible realisation, one that took her back to her high school days of avoiding the kids with the long greasy hair and massive duffel bags which they carried around for no known reason. They were loners. Joan had become one of those kids - only with better hair and a Chanel bag instead of a duffel.

This was a good place to start, and why not begin with Zoey? She seemed to be remotely interested in Joan as a person. Right?

It was the same day as Simon's engagement party when she asked Zoey out for drinks. She had told Zoey she didn't want to go to Simon's party because of all the millennial chat. In all actuality, she just didn't think it was how she wanted to spend her first night out as a single woman. Imagine, freshly divorced and going to celebrate two people who love each other, but have a 45% chance of ending up like she and Charlie? She didn't like those odds.

So she had suggested to the young woman that they grab a couple of quiet, civilised drinks. Wasn't there a nice bar at the top of the Hilton? She wanted to let loose a little, but she refused to go to some crappy bar in Sunnyvale, or God forbid, The Tenderloin. Joan looked like a prime mugging target at the best of times so really, why make it easier for people?

They'd stick to the financial district tonight - overpriced martinis and tiny food portions seemed better than the alternative.

But by the time they'd got to the bar, something in Joan snapped. Why should she have a quiet and civilised evening when Charlie sure as hell wouldn't be? He was welcome to do whatever he wanted, but she had to stop putting her life on hold for him. She had no real obligation to him anymore, and like hell was he having a quiet and civilised evening.

"Hey, can I have 2 dry martinis up with a twist and a couple of shots," she said with a level of confidence and determination she wasn't sure she possessed. Catching Zoey's face, she saw a slight smirk and the agreement that she herself would like a shot. She might have imagined it, but was Zoey... impressed with her?

It didn't take long for Joan to pass the tipsy stage where she usually would have stopped herself. She felt a pleasant warmth radiating throughout her body she hadn't felt at all when she had drowned her sorrows in LA or perhaps for a long time prior to that. She felt a little emotional, but an equally tipsy Zoey was quick to comfort her.

"Is there something wrong with me?" she cried, lowering her head to the bar. She wasn't even sure where this wave of self depreciation had come from, but she found it to be a saddening common thread throughout most situations in her life. Joan was actually okay about the divorce, she really was. But she was just a lightweight who couldn't handle spirits all that well.

"No, _you_ are s _uper_ fun," Zoey assured her with a light punch on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Nobody in the office thinks I'm fun," she whined, and had she been sober, she would have rolled her eyes at herself. As it were, she was 3 vodka shots and half a martini down and all she wanted was to feel like she _c_ _ould_ be a fun person. Charlie had made her dull and she wanted to find her spark again.

And that's how they ended up at Simon's engagement party, which neither had particularly wanted to attend but Joan had insisted because she wanted Simon and Leif and Tobin to see just how fun she really was. Zoey went along with it and only 30 minutes later, the Uber pulled up at the address in Nob Hill. Normally Joan would have remarked that she hated the house's design - it was frighteningly similar to the style of houses on her street in Bismarck. Gosh she hated it there.

By the time she'd gotten out of the car, she'd forgotten all about the house and hurried Zoey inside.

Next thing she knew, she was in her bed the following day wearing the same clothes she'd worn to the party. Light was cracking through the curtains, so she assumed it must have been at least 10 am. She had never felt so hungover. The feeling in her head most closely resembled that of someone using her brain as their own personal kick drum and her body felt heavy from alcohol-induced fatigue. She just wanted to die she felt so ill.

Then, memories hit her from the night before.

_Doing shots with Zoey._

_Tobin teaching her how to tie a cherry stalk with her tongue._

_Leif helping her to devise The Chirp._

_Zoey setting the rose wall on fire (thank god, it was hideous)._

_Karen from accounting._

_Leif joining her at SPRQ-Point after hours to work on The Chirp._

And in spite of a budding migraine, she couldn't help but smile. Last night was a reminder than her divorce wasn't really the end of her life, it was the beginning of a potentially new and much more exciting one.

* * *

Leif was gentle with her by nature, and rough with her when she asked him to be. He might have been self-righteous and overly-ambitious, but he had a fantastic way of knowing exactly what she needed.

The first time they got together, Joan hadn't climaxed. It wasn't that she didn't find Leif attractive, or that she wasn't enjoying herself, simply that she wasn't ready for that yet. She didn't stop herself from feeling that sort of pleasure, it was more that that type of pleasure hadn't come to her in a very long time.

The first time they got together wasn't about having mind-blowing sex. Well, it might have been for Leif. For Joan, though, it was about getting past the barrier of being with the same person for 20 years and learning to be with new people again. She got incredibly lucky with Leif - for all his faults, she couldn't have imagined him ever doing anything in bed she didn't say was okay. And of course, she couldn't pretend he wasn't easy on the eye.

The second time they had sex, both had come to a climax so violent, Joan bit back tears. She had tried to stop it, grabbing onto the sheets unsure of such an intense feeling coursing through her body. Finally she just let go, her first orgasm in a long time washing over her in aggressive waves.

Once they had both finished, Joan lay down and found her body unable to move. Leif positioned himself at herself at her side, propped up on his elbow and gazing down at her while both of their bodies regained their composure. She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that before Leif pressed his lips against hers and looked into her eyes with intrigue.

"You know, I've always noticed how beautiful you are. But until now, I've never really noticed how blue your eyes are."

She fought back a grin, instead remarking, "That's straight off a Hallmark card."

Leif did smile, "Hardly. You're so beautiful and you don't even know it."

Pushing himself off of the bed, he pulled on some clothes and continued, "Now, I promised you some of my famous coffee didn't I?"

* * *

Joan had expected to be more angry when she found out her ex-lover (God, that gave her shudders) had been leaking Chirp code from the sixth floor, but strangely, she felt touched. They had already spoken about how she didn’t return his romantic feelings - she had grown to care for Leif, but she was by no means in love with him. She thought Leif had understood, but if his karaoke performance was anything to go by, he was far from over her.

And she dreaded to think she had hurt him the way Charlie had hurt her.

But the entire thing with Leif had showed her it was possible to be loved and that had almost warmed her heart. She had changed a lot since her recent divorce and she had stopped being so hard on herself about it all. She realised she had more to offer than she knew. She was almost 50, but she knew that overall, her body was still in good shape and with enough makeup, she was actually pretty beautiful. She was more clever than Charlie gave her credit for. Hell, she was more clever than she gave _herself_ credit for. 

She wasn't a bad person, and in fact it had been Leif who proved to her just how great she was. She wasn't sorry she didn't love him - she had no obligation to love him and she had said from the start it was just a casual thing. Joan had been married for 20 years, and so a relationship was absolutely out of the question. It wasn't really a personal thing, Leif was great. But it was time Joan started to follow her gut. To do what was right for her was the only was she'd be able to move forward from the only man she'd ever really loved.

Standing in front of Leif on the deserted 5th floor, she saw his heart break right before her eyes as she ended their month long series of hookups. She wasn't all that big on public displays of emotion, but the way he struggled to even look at her as she spoke to him almost broke her own heart. She tried to crack a joke, but her heart just wasn't in it. She didn't love him, their relationship was immensely inappropriate and if left to go on any longer, a HR nightmare. But how could she pretend it had just been meaningless sex for her? It wasn't. It had been exactly what she'd needed.

"Thank you," she spoke quietly, the beginning of a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. Thanking him from refraining from corporate espionage, what she actually meant was; _thank you for reminding me I'm not as worthless as I think I am. Thank you for showing me sex isn't just an inconvenience to me. Thank you for proving to me I am worthy of being loved, even if I can't return those feelings. Just thank you._

Leif nodded in understanding, before turning and leaving her alone on the fifth floor, surrounded by work tools and tarpaulin. 

* * *

Charlie had finally sourced the screwdriver for that stupid Cartier Love bracelet he bought her all those years ago. A younger and more naive Joan had felt the gesture was incredibly beautiful and romantic - they were going to be together forever and now they had a $6,000 bracelet on top of her overpriced wedding ring to really solidify the marriage. 

Truthfully it felt like a shackle to a man more interested in putting her down than in showing her the affection and appreciation she was slowly learning she deserved. And the fact she'd had to wear that stupid thing while she was having sex with Leif for all those weeks and during a more recent one night stand was humiliating. Thank God neither seemed particularly informed on the subject of luxury jewellery or she was sure they might have pointed out she was effectively still wearing her wedding ring. 

Charlie had brought her the screwdriver last night and no sooner had he handed it over before she was returning it along with the bracelet. He could sell it or return it, hell, he could even give it to the new woman for all she cared. It was the last thing tying them together and finally it was over. She had watched him as she handed it over, secretly hoping for a little bit of hurt, regret, something to cross his face. Anything to tell her that she hadn't imagined the last 20 years of their marriage - there had been some good moments, right?

Charlie sighed, and for a moment, she thought he was going to speak. But as quickly as the thought had crossed her mind, he was back in the Tesla and driving off. He was gone, and Joan had her answer.

The next day at work, she caught sight of her left wrist and suddenly noticed the bareness of it without the bracelet. She felt no void, no sadness and no regret at last.

Joan finally felt free.

* * *

Joan found herself at the crummy apartment little after 9PM. It was a week after Zoey's father's funeral and Joan had felt guilty for not supporting Zoey more over the events of the past few weeks. Joan was possibly the only person out with her family who could understand what she was feeling, but Joan had kept away. She didn't really know how to help, having never really grieved for her mother in the first place.

She knocked on the door with a sigh, dreading the sight she might end up facing. She looked down at the bottle of wine in her hand, sudden doubt over whether or not it was the right choice of alcohol or not. Would vodka have been more appropriate? Tequila? Was any of this really appropriate? 

The door opened tentatively, then completely and Joan was met with a smile which she couldn't help but return. The redhead's eyes were puffy and exhausted and she was adorned in a pair of sweats and a hoodie, but she was the same old Zoey she had been before Joan had flown off to Singapore. A weight lifted from her shoulders as she held up a bottle of wine.

"Want some company?"

Zoey nodded and stepped out of the way to let the older woman through. Joan ignored the apartment's decor (which she would remember to discuss with Zoey another day) and headed straight to where she assumed the kitchen was. She found herself two wine glasses amongst the mess in the kitchen and set about pouring the wine. She could feel the young coder's presence in the room and felt like kicking herself for her rudeness. Joan could only justify it to herself that she wasn't used to checking up on people or being friendly, and alcohol was the only way she really knew how to initiate such conversations.

Seeing a therapist was also on her to-do list.

"Joan," Zoey said, breaking Joan away from pouring the wine. She turned around, giving Zoey her full attention. It was then she spotted the dark circles under her eyes and the unshed tears hanging in her eyes. She noticed the younger woman's pallor and the way she swayed on her feet, the way Joan did when she wasn't eating quite right.

"Yeah?"

"Can we not talk about-"

Joan raised a hand, "We can talk about whatever you like. I'm merely the bringer of wine and a shoulder to lean on, should you want it. Now, do you have any food?"

Letting out a shaky sigh, Zoey shook her head, "I've been living exclusively off of Cheetos. I'm sorry, I know you're probably used to something a lot nicer than that but it's all I have."

"Don't be ridiculous, Zoey," she scoffed, handing her the glasses of wine. "That cake you left at my doorstep? I lived off of that for three days. If Cheetos are your poison, who am I to judge?"

She chuckled, "Alright. In the cupboard by the fridge."

They put a movie on in the background, Zoey focused on her cheesy snacks and Joan on her wine. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Joan's eyes occasionally flickering up to the TV but mostly watching Zoey. Her nails were a little chipped and her hair matted from lack of attention from a brush, but Joan reminded herself of the state she'd been in only weeks ago, being sick on her Vivienne Westwood suit and falling asleep at her desk at work. _You can't be on your A-game 100% of the time, Joan. Zoey is no different._

Joan got through it, and she'd make sure Zoey did, too.

She caught Zoey watching her with a weak smile, "You seem really happy, Joan. It's nice."

"You know what, Red? I think I'm almost happy. So thank you."

Zoey nodded, lifting up her wine glass, "You deserve it, Joan."

Clinking the side of their glasses together, Joan leaned back into the sofa and turned her attention onto the movie. For the first time, Joan didn't cringe at the young woman's attempt to make her realise she deserved happiness.

This time; she agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the end! I hope it was worth reading & I also hope you can spare some time to let me know what you thought. It's not looking like Lauren will be back for season 2, but I'm holding out hope she even makes it back for an episode at the end of the season. I really need some LG in my life again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, while this might have seemed a little OOC, I don't know. I think Joan would have regretted standing up to Charlie initially and since we got so little Joan and Charlie screen time, it's hard to tell what their relationship would have really been like. So I went to the extremes - gaslighting, emotional abuse. I think having such a horrible spouse would have explained Joan's behaviour at work a little more, because she does seem to soften in the weeks after her divorce.
> 
> Also, I really, really hope Lauren is finished with Disney in time to come back for season 2 of ZEP because ohmigod we need Joan to come back from being CEO with a lovely new boyfriend and some happier heart songs.


End file.
